Raise Me From Perdition
by ThePoetCerridwen
Summary: Forty years in Hell is a long time. Dean has long since turned into an empty shell, resigned to an eternity of pain. But when a beautiful Light by the name of Castiel invades, it could change everything. No slash, just a oneshot account of Dean's rescue from Hell.


**I was looking through some Supernatural fan art, and I can across a few of Cas rescuing Dean from Hell. Then I decided I wanted to write what might've happened, and I just hope it came out okay. Please enjoy!**

Hell was an interesting place for many reasons, but there was one that stood out in particular.

Dean had spent his first years on the rack, just another sinner to be punished. Of course, Azazel enjoyed showing him some "special attention," before Dean finally broke and agreed to join the demons in torturing the others.

But Dean shouldn't feel so guilty, should he? They were in Hell, after all, so they must've done something bad.

But did that really make all of them bad people?

What if they had done something similar to Dean, and made a horrible decision in order to save someone they loved? What if they were just terribly misguided, and had done awful things without really realizing how wrong it was?

What was that saying again?

 _The road to Hell is paved with good intentions._

Well, hell if that ain't the damn truth.

The main reason Hell was so interesting was that, although Dean was off the rack, the torture never really stopped. From the moment he entered this God-forsaken, endless cavern, there was a burning in his soul. That's really the only way to describe it. Dean had suffered plenty of painful injuries in his lifetime, but nothing, _nothing_ could compare to the sheer agony he felt here. And the pain never faded or eased.

After all, theywere swimming in Hellfire.

For what was probably the millionth time, Dean raised the burning dagger in his hand and brought it back down on the person strung up in front of him. The man screamed and writhed as his flesh was peeled away, but Dean didn't even flinch. Instead he simply quirked the corner of his mouth up in a smile wrought of a detached sense of satisfaction.

 _You should be ashamed of yourself,_ a tiny part of him whispered.

 _Maybe,_ the other part said, _but it's easier this way._

There were screams in the distance.

Naturally Dean ignored them at first. This was, of course, _Hell;_ the only sounds here were of pain and anguish, and the cries had long ago faded into white noise.

But then Dean realized that these screams were different-this time, it was the demons that were crying out.

Their screams grew louder and with them came a high-pitched ringing noise. Dean finally lowered his tools and turned around to face the racket, as it seemed to be coming closer.

The tools fell out of Dean's hands and he stared, mouth hanging open in awe.

Light. Not Hellfire light that burned excruciatingly hot and carried pain and death with it-but a beautiful, blinding white Light that spoke only of peace and safety.

The demons fled before it, cowering and shrieking to each other. One word rang throughout all of Hell:

 _ANGEL._

The Light sped towards Dean at blinding speed, and Dean found himself becoming rather frightened of this stunningly beautiful entity. The Light finally washed over him, and Dean collapsed to his knees, bowing his head deeply as tears sprang in his eyes. Surely he was not worthy of this magnificent creature's attention, and surely he was not worthy enough to even lay eyes on it.

Somewhere nearby, Dean could hear Azazel screaming, "You can't do this! _You do not belong here!"_

Dean barely had time to wonder what was going on before a deep voice boomed throughout the never-ending cavern:

" _Dean Winchester."_

" _You will not touch him!"_ Azazel roared. _"YOU HAVE NO RIGHT!"_

But something was already grabbing onto Dean and he gasped, keeping his eyes shut tight. A strong arm was wrapped around him, clutching him tight against someone's chest. His left arm burned-but it was a good burn. It didn't burn like Hellfire; it wasn't there to inflict pain. No, it was something pure, cleansing.

Suddenly they were shooting upwards, so fast that Dean was sure that if he wasn't already dead, his neck would be broken. And he felt an odd sense of utter euphoria, although he wasn't sure why. He was baffled as to why the Hell-inflicted pain was vanishing. Maybe the Light was washing it away. Maybe it was because they were approaching the surface.

 _The surface?_

Something clicked with Dean. _That's right,_ he realized, _We're not just going up. We're escaping._

Escaping.

Leaving.

Going home.

 _Sammy._

Dean's heart leaped just as there was a deafening crash around them as they broke the surface. The sweltering heat vanished, taking with it the smell of death, the sound of agony, and the overwhelming sense of hopelessness.

Dean's consciousness faded, but not before he heard a joyous cry so loud that it was sure to ring throughout all of space and time:

 _Dean Winchester is saved!_

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